collective coma
plodding sky swallows a squirrel
clinging to a gnarly tree
blemished pens bemoan
wily wordplay
out of nowhere
i am sadly too late
they have built the battlefield
in a collective coma
i build sorrow
my words disappear
one gloats madly
as i go savagely into twilight
flaming snakes
bite the Hanged Man
the Wheel of Fortune
spins into the Sun
Copyright © NJ Tomcatx | Year Posted 2025
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